Ladies' Night Andrews, Kay (great novels .txt) 📖

“He must have something the ladies love,” Wyatt observed. “To have two hotties like Ashleigh and Suchita fighting over him.”

“What he has is a nice big bank account,” Grace countered. She closed her eyes and rested her head on the back of the seat. A moment later, she sat up again. “What time is it?”

“Nearly seven,” Wyatt said. He closed his hand over hers. “Just rest, okay? I’m going to take you to the condo, let you get changed and showered. I called your mom, just to let her know what happened, so she won’t be worried. And I talked to Nelson, to let him know I won’t be coming home tonight. The EMTs told me you need to have somebody checking you through the night.”

“No!” Grace said. “I mean, that’s sweet and all that you want to take care of me. But everybody’s meeting at the Sandbox tonight. Mitzi’s coming, too. They’re expecting me.”

“Not a good idea,” Wyatt said. “Why don’t you just call your mom back and tell her to let everybody know you’re not coming?”

“I can’t call anybody. Remember? My cell phone is still in what’s left of Ashleigh’s car. Anyway, I have to go, and you need to be there, too. This is important, Wyatt. If we’re going to file a complaint against Stackpole with the JQC, we need everybody to give Mitzi a statement. She’s bringing women from Paula’s other groups, too. And there’s an outside chance Paula herself might show up.”

“You think Paula’s going to turn against her boyfriend?” Wyatt scoffed. “Now I know you’ve got a head injury.”

Grace proceeded to fill Wyatt in on the Honorable Cedric N. Stackpole’s not-so-honorable but very complicated love life.

“I told Paula about the meeting tonight, about what we’re doing,” Grace said. “She’s really conflicted. But I think maybe she’s tired of being victimized by him. I think there’s an outside chance she’ll show up and help us.”

“Doubtful,” Wyatt said, unconvinced.

“I don’t care. Let’s go straight to the Sandbox. I can shower and change there.” She flashed a smile. “Please? I need you on my team.”

He shrugged. “Team Grace? Okay. Sign me up.”

68

Rochelle was carrying a tray of drinks and food to a table of softball players at the back of the room when her bedraggled daughter came scuttling through the side door of the Sandbox, trying not to be noticed.

She dropped the tray on the table, sloshing beer on the shortstop’s cheeseburger and sending the catcher’s order of hot wings sailing off the plate and into the second baseman’s lap.

“Sorry.” Rochelle tossed a dry bar towel to the coach, who was, thankfully, a regular.

“Jesus H!” she exclaimed, hurrying over to Grace’s side. She hugged her daughter fiercely. “You look awful! Are you sure you don’t need to go to the emergency room?”

“I look worse than I feel,” Grace said. “I’ll be fine after I get a shower.” She looked over her mother’s shoulder at the table in the corner, where a dozen women chattered away. “Is everybody here?”

“Everybody except you two—and Ashleigh. If that girl’s not dead already, I’ll kill her myself,” Rochelle said.

“Did you tell the others what happened?” Grace asked.

“Just that there’d been an accident and that you were okay and Ashleigh was taken to the hospital,” Rochelle said. “I’ll let you fill ’em in. If you’re sure you feel like it.”

“Wyatt can do it while I get cleaned up.” Grace leaned over and planted a kiss on Wyatt’s cheek. He blushed, then kissed her back.

*   *   *

“I take it you two patched things up?” Rochelle asked as they watched Grace depart.

“I think so,” Wyatt said. “I hope so. I can’t go through another day like today. When I realized she was in that car with Ashleigh—the kind of danger she was in…”

He ducked his head and swallowed. “If something had happened to her? I honestly don’t know what I’d do, Rochelle. I know it’s crazy—falling in love with somebody you meet in divorce therapy? But I did. And I think she did, too. And when this is all over, I want us to get married.”

Rochelle raised one eyebrow. “You’re asking my permission?”

Wyatt laughed and blushed again. “I guess not. Just maybe for your approval. I know I’m not the best financial risk. She’d be going from that mansion she lived in with her ex to a trailer—literally. But I promise you, I love Grace, and I’ll never hurt her. I’ll spend the rest of my life taking care of her.”

“Grace can actually take care of herself,” Rochelle said. “Just make her laugh and smile and enjoy life like she used to. Be good to each other. The rest will work itself out.”

*   *   *

Mitzi Stillwell dabbed at the beer rings on the tabletop with a paper napkin, then placed a thick file folder on it.

She looked at the eleven women arrayed around the two tables Rochelle had pushed together in a quiet corner of the bar. Camryn Nobles trained a small handheld video camera on Mitzi, then panned around at the other women.

Suzanne passed around the documents Mitzi had prepared: disclaimers, giving Camryn the right to film the women telling their stories and attesting that they were giving their statements of their own free will.

Harriett Porter cleared her throat nervously. Camryn gave her an encouraging nod. “Just pretend you’re talking to a friend,” she prompted.

Harriett licked her lips and began speaking. “We had our first hearing before Judge Stackpole back in December. I, er, did something I now regret, and Judge Stackpole was very, very angry with me.”

“What exactly did you do that made him so angry?” Camryn asked.

“Well, I found out that my husband was having an affair with a stripper…” She looked at Camryn. “Is it okay to say it was a male stripper?”

Camryn laughed and nodded.

“Okay, so it was this guy. Named Anubis. I guess that was his stripper name. Anyway, Daryl, that’s my husband, was putting tens of thousands of dollars on our American Express card at this place in Tampa called